War Story 6: A Kayak, Two Rivers and War

It was a beautiful, spring day at the Charles River Dam in South Natick. The water was clear, the sun bright with a dozen or so Mallards standing on the dam itself.

Fresh from the LL Bean store in Dedham, I was excited about taking my first kayak trip down the Charles River, twisting east past the Elm Bank Reservation.

Paddling slowly to take in the sights and sounds, I noticed how shallow the river is and yet so wide. At many places, I could easily cross from one side to the other in no more than waist-deep water.

Drifting along, I glanced at the turtles on tree limbs and the huge blue heron with suspicious eyes on me.

My mind drifted to another time and place on a river.

It was the summer of 1970 in South Vietnam. As the Lieutenant, I ordered my platoon to load up as we were going out for several days to patrol an area east of an old dirt airstrip not far from the Laotian border.

Codenamed, Elk Canyon, our Battalion, including several hundred troops, was flown in by attack helicopters to seize the territory around Kham Duc, located in Quang Tin Province. Controlled by the Viet Cong and NVA, “Kham Duc” had been lost during the great battles of the Tet Offensive.

We also came back to recover the remains of 12 U.S. Special Forces from when the Viet Cong overran the base in May 1968.

The Battalion set up its Headquarters alongside the airstrip, near the old bunkers along with an artillery battery and their huge 155mm Howitzers.

After a briefing, I welcomed a couple of new replacements who just arrived. My platoon would now number twenty-four, most experienced with several months of combat under their belts. However, when one of the new guys heard about our exploits, he got real nervous. He was panicked. He pointed the barrel of his M-16 to his left shoulder and pulled the trigger. He did not realize it would take off most of his shoulder.

With extra ammo and food, we quietly left the south end of the airstrip and hacked our way down the steep slope through thick vegetation to the river that runs parallel to the airstrip.

At the river, the current looked strong. We took no chances and strung thick rope across the river to guide the troops carrying their heavy loads. Filled with rocks, it started out being shallow but got chest deep as we neared the edge.

I was anticipating an ambush at every step. This is when we were most vulnerable as each soldier lumbered across holding the rope in one hand and their M-16 in the other.

After crossing, the hike up the long slope was arduous in the heat and humidity. Sweat poured off us, aggravating our “jungle rot” where skin seemed to peel off parts of our bodies. Once we reached the top, I picked a site to create a night defensive position for the platoon.

Scouting around the area we found an ominous sign - a well-used trail along the ridge running parallel to the river. 

Before dark, we set up our “mike-alphas”, or mechanical ambushes, on the trail using Claymore anti-personnel mines with trip wires.

With the jungle so thick, I decided to use a hammock in the center of the platoon. Others slept on the ground in a large, circular perimeter. Everyone knew the drill for night-watch.

It was so dark with no Moon that I could not see my hand as I touched my nose. Incredible.

All tasks done, I swayed for hours before drifting off to sleep.

On the Charles, I broke my daydream to watch the huge blue heron launch from his perch with a wing span that had to be over 3 feet. It took some distance before he could rise up and disappear downriver.

I noticed a trail alongside the river on the Arboretum Reservation and some people walking their dogs. 

Soon they disappeared into the forest.

I stopped paddling and drifted.

Before sunrise, the incredible explosions and gunfire woke me up in a fright. I toppled over upside down from the hammock to the ground grasping my M-16.

What the hell was happening?

It took a few moments for me to realize that we were not being attacked. I got on the radio and could hear that Battalion Headquarters was under attack.

I was worried that the Battalion might be overrun but we held our position and waited.

After the firing stopped, no one moved.

Silence and darkness in the jungle.

Then it happened, Ka-BOOM! The sound was deafening.

Then another, Ka-BOOM! The Claymores exploded just a few yards from our position.

Then silence again.

Were we surrounded? It would not be easy to retreat down and back across the river. That would be disastrous. We would stand our ground.

Time passed slowly. Finally, as morning light slowly pierced the darkness, two of my soldiers crawled out to see what happened.  Running to join their comrades, the enemy soldiers tripped our mike-alphas. Three bodies lay mangled in the jungle.

It seemed any others with them decided to leave the area.

I soon learned that during the night, the enemy has come down the river from the north and up the steep slope between us and the airstrip. They were sappers, nearly naked, but carrying satchel charges to blow up the headquarters and the howitzers.

One private, fresh off the plane from the States and too scared to fall asleep, noticed several of the attackers right away and could not believe his eyes. He called to his Sergeant who was all too skeptical. 

The Sergeant glanced and jumped out of his skin to sound the alarm.

Fortunately, the “arty” boys were alert and lowered their big guns and blasted the sappers point-blank as they tried to get through the concertina wire. The firing was furious.

It was devastating and in twenty minutes eighteen enemies lay dead, one still holding a grenade.

We continued our patrol south along the trail looking for the enemy.

All of a sudden mortar rounds started landing to one side of us. I yelled and we all ran like hell to escape. I was also yelling in the radio that we were getting pounded by our own artillery.

Unfortunately, it was a South Vietnamese mortar team; friendly fire.

One of my Sergeants approached me to show his M-16 mangled by shrapnel. It was hit while he was on the run and holding it chest high.

We spent another night in the jungle. More mike-alphas were set. We were alert. Few slept.

As before, early in the morning, Ka-BOOM!

We nailed two more enemies on the trail. One was well-dressed and looked like a high-ranking officer.

Eventually, we made it back to Battalion and we suffered no casualties. That was my benchmark for success.

We never once pulled a trigger.

On the Charles, I had now reached the wide area just before the Mill Street Dam. Two large, white swans caught my attention. They paddled together in unison. They were captivating.

Yes, this is a great river for the love of nature and peace. This is exactly what the world needs.

I was truly relaxed and appreciated all that was around me.

I was also at peace with myself.